


Code of Conduct

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This guy is an ethics violation waiting to happen,” Anna says, and fuck, Cas really needs to practice being less obvious with the ogling. Cas cringes and waits for all the arguments he’s sure she’s about to make -- it’s too risky, Dean is already balking at the standard $10,000 retainer, they can’t take his case on a contingent fee basis without approval from all the shareholders and frankly hell is going to freeze over before that happens -- but instead, Anna just sighs and give Cas the biggest shock of the night when she follows it with, “But you should sign him up anyway.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code of Conduct

**Author's Note:**

> For [heyheyassbutt](http://heyheyassbutt.tumblr.com/). Happy birthday <3

It’s 6:00 on a Friday night and Cas and Anna are, quite literally, the only two people still in the office.

“We might as well be productive while we wait for Mr. Winchester to show up,” Cas had reasoned, so they’re sitting in the big conference room reviewing tens of thousands of pages of document production.

“So this is how we choose to use our free will,” Anna says, because she’s too polite to say _I don’t care how hot he sounded over the phone. He was supposed to be here at 3. He’s not gonna show._

Cas won’t admit it, but he’s losing faith as well. _Just thirty minutes more,_ he tells himself.

At precisely 6:28, there’s a knock on the front door.

\--

By the time 7:00 rolls around, it’s become abundantly clear that Dean desperately needs their help and also absolutely cannot afford it.

He’s being sued by Richard Roman Enterprises, and fuck if that isn’t a name Cas has heard a million times. There are some companies that pop up over and over again for all the wrong reasons, and by now he’s lost count of the number of times they’ve sued RRE. Their in-house counsel, Michael Spencer, is an absolute asshole, but the owner of the company is worse. The fact he actually goes by Dick Roman would be hilarious if he wasn’t actually so good at screwing people over.

Point is, they have a habit of making each case absolute hell, and more often than not, they win their cases because the other party simply can’t afford to keep fighting.

The American justice system at work.

Cas doesn’t tell Dean any of that. What he does tell him is still the truth, though: that litigation can go on for years, that it can cost tens of thousands of dollars, that there are no guarantees. That it might be better to just let RRE take a default judgment against him and start over.

The look Dean gives him in response tells him everything, even before Dean starts in on his life story, but as soon as he gets going on that, well, Cas knows he’s already lost.

“I’m doing business under an assumed name,” Dean explains. “I can’t file for personal bankruptcy, I just can’t, I’d never be able to recover. It’s taken me this long just to build this company up. I can’t lose it now. I just can’t. My employees are like family, man, and I can’t tell them that this is it, they gotta find new jobs. I can’t lose the only thing I have that’s paying my brother’s medical bills. Please.”

Cas listens intently and tries very, very hard to focus only on Dean’s words and not on the movement of his lips as he forms them.

“Do you mind if I step outside a moment to speak with Anna privately?” Cas says, and Dean waves his hand dismissively, like he’s already given up.

“This guy is an ethics violation waiting to happen,” Anna says, and fuck, Cas really needs to practice being less obvious with the ogling. Cas cringes and waits for all the arguments he’s sure she’s about to make -- it’s too risky, Dean is already balking at the standard $10,000 retainer, they can’t take his case on a contingent fee basis without approval from all the shareholders and frankly hell is going to freeze over before that happens -- but instead, Anna just sighs and give Cas the biggest shock of the night when she follows it with, “But you should sign him up anyway.”

The way Dean lights up when they tell him -- shit, Cas thinks it’s gonna be worth whatever happens.

\--

They have a saying around the office: Your case is never as good as the day you take it.

Cas’ll be damned if that isn’t true here. He looked at Dean’s stupid green eyes and heard the way he talked about his business like it was his baby and he agreed to take the case anyway, and now he’s $300,000 in fees into a case that looks worse and worse with each passing day.

It turns out Dean signed RRE’s shitty one-sided contract without fighting to make a single change, so now they’re trapped by a damn mandatory arbitration clause. Cas isn’t opposed to the idea of arbitration, exactly, it’s just that in practice it’s not actually a cheaper alternative to litigation. It’s goddamn expensive, actually, and it’s perfect for avoiding both the stigma of a lawsuit and the protection offered by the formal rules that govern actual court cases. Which wouldn’t be a problem if their counterclaim was rock solid, but it isn’t, it isn’t even close. If it was, Cas would have gotten the case settled by now. But he hasn’t, and if he loses he’s so, so boned because the standard for overturning an arbitrator’s decision is sky fucking high.

So now Cas and his poor sap of an associate, Bartholomew, have spent the last nine months -- yeah, 300 grand in nine months, fuck Dick Roman and his asshole of a lawyer fighting them on even the most basic shit -- pouring hours and hours into this roulette wheel of a case, and meanwhile Cas has been sending Dean bills and telling him not to worry about paying them. Cas calls Dean in to meet in their offices, takes him to lunch to talk strategy, coaches him and his employees for depositions, works with him to answer the most tedious fucking discovery requests that are just enough on the right side of objectionable that they have to come up with _something_. He learns about Dean’s business and his life, shakes his hand, claps him on the shoulder, smiles at him even though it feels strange on his face, even though he’s not used to it, and tells him not to worry about it.

But Cas worries about it. He worries about it a lot. He worries about the way accounting is becoming increasingly more annoyed with him, the way he’s screwing Bartholomew over because of the hundreds of uncollected hours he’s billing, the way with every passing month this single case becomes a bigger and bigger chunk of their aged accounts receivable.

Cas sits in the Monday morning meetings in front of all the other attorneys and all their paralegals and tries to make them believe he’s going to get this case resolved and get their fees paid any day now. Bartholomew nods his encouragement, agrees with every desperate promise Cas makes. Cas appreciates it, but he’s pretty sure it’s just because Bartholomew is too new to this to recognize his claims for the bullshit they really are. Some role model he is, letting Bartholomew back him up even though every day this case drags on puts both their jobs at risk.

They’re still in the black this year, but just barely, and they can’t afford to write off such a huge chunk of money if this thing goes south, not in this economy. The fact that it’s eating enough into their profits that it’s been a few months since any of the shareholders have been paid isn’t helping matters, either. Naomi is glaring daggers at Cas from across the table. Hester has stopped speaking to him entirely.

“Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem,” Samandriel says, not unkindly. Cas can’t say the same for the scattered chuckles the quip receives in response, though.

The worst part, by far, is that their managing partner, Raphael, isn’t laughing. To be fair, Raphael never laughs. They never look like they’re joking. Their silent stare, trained on Castiel in the midst of everyone else’s banter, is more than enough to put the fear of god into him.

\--

Cas spends the entire trial cursing that fucking arbitration clause. Honest to god, he’s going to strike that bullshit from every contract he comes across from now on.

The thing is, if this were a jury trial, they’d be golden. Michael and his self-righteous posturing are distasteful enough, but Dick Roman with his smarmy grin and his suit that probably cost twenty times what Castiel’s did would really have sealed the deal. It wouldn’t even have mattered who was on the panel. Absolutely fucking no one would like this guy.

Dean, on the other hand, everyone would have loved. He would have gotten on the stand with his easy smiles, his casual charm, and had the entire jury wrapped around his little finger. It would have been a slam dunk. But instead they’ve got this single arbitrator, this guy Chuck, who Cas knows has heard stories just like this one a million times before because he spends the entire time looking tired and annoyed and maybe like he needs a drink.

Cas feels distinctly like he needs a drink, too, by the time the trial is over. He puts on a smile for Dean’s sake, though, and prays he’s exuding calm confidence he doesn’t really feel.

“You guys kicked ass,” Dean says, and his grin is so broad it can’t be anything but genuine. Dean claps a hand on Cas’ shoulder affectionately, and Cas is so busy wondering what he’s done to deserve this kind of faith that at first he doesn’t notice Dean’s hand sliding down the front of his jacket. Before he knows it, Dean is adjusting his tie, the gesture strangely intimate. He can practically feel Bartholomew’s eyes on them, silently assessing.

Cas clears his throat. “Thank you, Dean,” he says, offering one last handshake before they part, one last attempt at maintaining some semblance of professionalism.

Cas almost lets himself be relieved that it’s over, except then he remembers they have to wait 30 days for the decision, and it’s the absolute fucking worst.

\--

Dean is barely out the door, their trial documents not even packed up yet, the outcome still up in the air, but Bartholomew is all googly eyes anyway, nearly falling over himself complimenting Cas on being a brilliant strategist.

All Cas wants to do is go home and collapse into bed, but Bartholomew is having none of it. When Cas turns down his initial offer of dinner, Bartholomew says, with feigned nonchalance, “It’s a shame it’ll take a while to wrap this up. A month for the decision, more time after that to get that Dick to part with his money--” Cas does appreciate that bit of optimism-- “and then we’ll have to send a formal letter terminating our legal representation.” Cas quirks an eyebrow in confusion, but Bartholomew just smirks in response. “How about we grab dinner,” he says, all business, now, “and then you can fuck me, and I don’t even care if you pretend I’m Dean Winchester.”

It’s only when he’s balls deep in Bartholomew a couple hours later that it occurs to Cas to wonder if _this_ is an ethics violation, a shareholder screwing an up-and-coming young associate attorney. He has the sudden suspicion Bartholomew isn’t nearly as naive as he thought, that maybe this is his contingency plan if this case goes south, that maybe this is exactly the kind of leverage he wants. Before he can piece it all together, though, before he can finish mentally reciting the applicable sections of the disciplinary code, Bartholomew chokes on a moan that sounds suspiciously like his name and, well, fuck.

Clothes off, hair mussed, dim light hiding the color of his eyes and the absence of freckles, it’s far, far too easy to imagine that sound coming from someone else.

\--

The sex is pretty good, but it’s nothing compared to what Cas feels when they get Chuck’s decision.

The victory comes as a bit of a shock. Not that Cas is complaining; he’s thrilled Chuck was more on their side than he even dared to imagine.

When they get the check in from RRE, Cas has accounting deposit it into trust, pay off their fees, then cut Dean a check for the difference. He drafts a formal letter to go with it, all “Dear Mr. Winchester, enclosed please find blah blah blah and this concludes our legal representation,” with a line for Dean to sign and date to confirm receipt.

Cas tries his best not to look ecstatic when he takes the letter and the still very sizeable check to Dean in person.

They shake hands and lock eyes, and when Dean flicks his gaze down to Cas’ mouth and licks his lips, Cas manages to say, very calmly, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Dean smiles slyly, quirking an eyebrow. Hand still gripping Cas’, he says, “Is that all you want to do?”

Cas is pretty sure that’s the real victory.

\--

They don’t even make it all the way to Dean’s bed.

As soon as Cas closes the door behind them, Dean grabs his tie, pulling him into a kiss, all teeth and tongue and hot breath. He yanks at Cas’ hip with his other hand, forcing Cas to follow as he walks backwards, only coming to a stop once he’s flush against the wall, Cas pressed against him. He moves both hands to Cas’ ass, tugging until Cas gets the hint. When Cas rolls his hips forward, he can feel Dean is already half hard.

“Uh oh,” Dean says. “Looks like I still need your help after all.”

Cas pulls Dean’s hands away from his ass to pin them above Dean’s head. He rolls his hips again, more forcefully this time, and oh yeah, Dean’s breathy little moan is totally doing it for him.

“Good news,” Cas says, biting at Dean’s bottom lip. “Dominating dicks is my specialty.”

 


End file.
